The fire was receding into a distant glow, so she got up to grab another log from the box on the porch. "Do you need another beer?" she asked over her shoulder.
He considered the bottle in his hand, then tipped it against his lips and drained it. A few drops dripped into his beard, and she rolled her eyes. "Now I do!" he called cheerfully.
The screen door slammed behind her as she moved through the dirt room and into the kitchen. She grabbed another beer out of the door of the fridge, some craft brew with a punny name, and then considered her own options. Sake, she decided. It was a cold sake sort of night, dark and cool, with the heat of summer still rising from the dry lawn.
Back out on the porch, she selected a promising-looking log. She looked at the drinks in her hand, looked at the log, and decided to go for it. Tucking the sake bottle into her armpit, she tried to pick up the log with one hand, only to immediately drop it onto her foot. "Fuck!"
He was up on his feet in an instant, and he hurried over, only a trifle unsteady in his gait. "Oh my god, you ridiculous disaster, give me that log before I have to drive you to the ER." She shifted her foot so that he could grab it, then followed him back to the fire, unrepentant. "There is a pokey bit at the end there. If that hadn't been there, I totally would have had it."
"Yes, and then you would have dropped the beer instead," he said, stirring the coals and adding the log. He blew at the smolders, and they flared in the darkness, illuminating his face in fading flashes, catching the shadows of his curls. Finally, a little flame sprung reluctantly to life, licking the log in a sort of halfhearted way. "Good enough!"
She handed him his beer, and he cracked it and took a swig. She unscrewed the sake and sipped from the heavy bottle. He rolled his eyes. "You heathen, aren't you going to put that in a cup?"
"Nah." She shook her head. "Why get a cup dirty? I have enough dishes to do already."
"You're planning on drinking that entire bottle tonight, aren't you."
"There is a strong possibility that this may happen," she admitted, drinking a little more. It burned sweetly in her mouth. "It's been a long week."
"It's been a long year."
"Oh, let's toast to that."
He obligingly thunked his can against her bottle, and they both glugged down more alcohol at once than was strictly responsible. She coughed, spilled sake on her shirt. She looked down at the dark spots with dismay.
"Your ambient entropy field strikes again. It's probably fine. It's clear."
She nodded. "You're probably right, I just like this shirt. This really cool guy I know gave it to me for my birthday."
He grinned. "Tell me more about this cool guy of whom you speak."
She nudged him with her elbow. "You know him better than I do."
"Do I though? I think you know me better than anyone anymore."
She beamed up at him. "You're so eminently knowable!"
He laughed, then drained his beer and let forth an excellent belch, one loud enough that he seemed to startle himself. He almost fell off his stool.
"Oh, you should talk about drinking!"
He managed to lever himself up into a sitting position again. "Yeah..."
"Well, I'm not going to get up again to get you another." They sat watching the flames for a moment. "Do you want some sake?"
He took it gratefully, poured a mouthful, then handed it back. He swallowed and then sighed. "Look, I'm drinking because I'm anxious. And I'm anxious because I need to tell you something."
She swiveled on her stool to face him and looked at him seriously. "What's up?"
"Well. This is...I mean." He sighed again and looked away. "I'm just. I don't...okay, I'm feeling some...things, and I-"
She held up her hand. "Okay, no, I'm going to stop you right there. I think I see where this is going." He looked so stricken that she reached out at once and grasped his shoulder. "No, listen, I'm not stopping you for the reasons you think. I just need to say something before you say what you want to say. Which is rude, I know, but listen. We have become incredibly close friends in a fairly brief period of time, and neither of us are accustomed to this degree of emotional intimacy. I think that living in the culture that we do that we've been socialized to assume that male and female friendships can only result in some form of romantic entanglement. I'm not sure either of our brains are equipped to differentiate between types of intimacy right now. Given that, do you still want to talk about this?"
He gave her an inscrutable look, then let out a strained laugh. "Even now you sound like a professor."
She waved her hands in embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry, that's what I do when I'm anxious."
"I know. And yes. I still want to talk about this."
"We can't un-talk about it."
"That's fine."
This time, she sighed. "All right then. Talk."
"Okay."
The flames had died away again, but neither of them seemed to notice.
"You're not talking," she pointed out.
"Gah!" He threw up his hands, and then held his head in his hands.
"Okay, then," she harumphed, "then I'm talking. You are reluctant to say anything because you think I am going to tell you to fuck off and leave."
"Yes," he said, muffled by his hands.
